Pimp out of Place
The brother is walking down 40th, on the east side. He is smoking a cigarette and wearing a coat that shines out of wear. It goes just below his knees to expose a pair of baggy blue pants. The beard is gray but not white; on his head are a pink hat with a white feather in the brim.
He is a pimp dropped off on the wrong side of town, no girls to hassle or slap high fives. No one to shove to a street corner or to smooth hair, no distant lover sung by Marvin Gaye. When he is finally aware, the embarrassment of habit will find a bus to the city and look for a bitch to blame.